"Come on, Logan, get to work over there!" a man's voice shouted from behind their captor. "There might still be people alive under all this debris!"
"I'll be right there," shouted the one Brooke now knew was named Logan. Even though he was calling out over his shoulder, directing his voice away from the two tiny women, they both had to cringe and cover their ears to avoid being deafened. "Just a minute!" he hollered, cradling the tiny accident victims between his fingers.
"Jesus Christ, will you keep your voice down?" screamed the pathetic Abigail. "You'll blow out our eardrums!"
"Shut up!" Brooke yelled at her. "God, you are such an idiot! Do you want him to--"
That was all she had time for, though, for that's when Logan decided to put them both away for safekeeping. He had a tool belt at his waist, and with his free hand he opened up one of the pockets there. Then he rudely shoved both his miniature prisoners inside, snapping the flap shut with a loud click and leaving them in darkness.
"See what you did?" Brooke hissed, struggling and failing to squeeze out the side of their leathery prison.
"Fuck off," snapped Abby. She seemed to sense the futility of trying to escape, and settled down amidst the folds of the pocket, fuming. "He would've put us in here anyway."
Brooke didn't argue, but kept pushing at the thick walls ineffectually. At one point she shoved herself up against the side so she could thrust out with her legs, but even that didn't work. Her miniaturized muscles just weren't strong enough to pop the flap open.
Eventually she, too, gave up and settled down to wait while their new owner walked around the debris outside. She stayed as far away from Abigail as possible, a feeling that was obviously mutual. They both could hear Logan's voice above, talking to the other rescue workers, but most of what he said was too muffled by the pocket to make out. He did, though, at one point inform the others he had to take a break, and then he started walking in earnest.
Brooke just lay there, trying to control her fears and emotions. She was, of course, terrified, but refused to show it in front of the bitch on the other side of the dimly lit pocket. Instead, she tried to put on a confident air as she felt Logan shift and sit down, and then heard the sound of a car engine starting. The sensation of acceleration that followed was unmistakable.
Silently, Brooke cursed her luck. If ANYONE else had been here with her, she could've managed a meaningful conversation. Perhaps they might've shared their fears and maybe tried to cheer each other up. There was no question of trying such a thing with Abigail, though. To bring up such a subject would be to show weakness, and she had no intention of doing that.
After what seemed like an eternity, the car finally stopped moving and Logan stood up again. He shut the door, walked a bit more, paused to jingle his keys, and then moved inside what they would soon discover was his home. He meandered about a bit more, doing what they didn't know, and finally unsnapped the tool belt and slammed it down on something solid. Only then did he open the pocket. "Come on out," he told them in that thundering voice. "Don't worry, little ladies, you'll be perfectly safe here, I promise you."
Brooke and Abigail exchanged glances, as if to see which one would move first, and then both of them clambered out simultaneously onto the huge tabletop. The tool belt wound away from them like a small train, and the platform they stood on seemed like a vast wooden plateau. Logan's face hung overhead, a giant visage too big to be believed. His eyes were fixed on them, and each time he blinked, they could see the normally imperceptible motion of his muscles and eyelashes.
"Welcome to my home," he told them cheerfully. "My name is Logan Frederickson. How about yours?"
"Brooke McAllister," Brooke said quickly, before Abby could speak. "Nice to meet you, Logan."
"Same to you," he replied with a grin. "And you?"
"Abigail Fernandez," said Abby, frowning and keeping her eyes averted.
"Abigail," Logan repeated. "Is it all right if I call you Abby?"
"Sure," she replied with a sigh. "You might as well. I can't really stop you, can I?"
"No," he replied, his grin widening. "No, you can't. You know, you're both quite beautiful, but I can't decide which one of you I like better."
Brooke smiled, blushing slightly. "Thanks," she replied demurely. Nearby, Abby rolled her eyes and shook her head in dismay.
"You're awfully cute, Brooke," said Logan, ignoring her comment, "but Abby here is nice looking, too, even if she is wearing far too much in the way of clothing." With that he turned his attentions towards the frustrated-looking brunette. "Now, why don't you take that suit off and let me see the rest of you?"
"WHAT?" screeched Abigail, and Brooke had to stifle a laugh. "You've got to be kidding me! I'm not going to--"
Logan shook his massive head and reached down with a single giant finger, shoving Abby onto her back. "It wasn't a request, it was an order," he growled.
"No!" Abby yelled up at him defiantly. "I'm not going to strip for you, no matter how big you are!"
Brooke couldn't help herself. She had to laugh at how pathetic Abigail sounded. Didn't she realize she was completely helpless against this man? Obviously not!
"All right, I see I need to explain some things," said Logan with a sigh, pulling up a chair and sitting down so he could stare down at his captives more easily. "All the way back home, I kept thinking about what I was going to do with you, and then I figured it out. I can do anything I want, can't I? There's nothing you can do to stop me, not as tiny as you are." He leaned much closer to the two of them. "Am I getting through to you now?" he said loudly.
"Y-yes," Brooke replied in a weak, barely audible voice. Abigail didn't say anything, but just gazed up at him with a look of hatred on her face.
"Well, then," he said, eyes fixed on Abby, "let me show you what I mean."
Suddenly, he reached down and plucked the screaming Abigail up off the tabletop. She squirmed and struggled, but there was no escape from Logan's grip. He held her out in front of him, in a position where Brooke could see what was going on. Then, he calmly began to remove the wailing brunette's business suit one piece at a time, peeling off the layers as he would an onion.
First her coat came off, then the skirt, and then the blouse. Abigail didn't stop fighting the whole time, but of course her cause was hopeless. Logan plucked off her little pumps one after the other, then turned her over in his hand and tried to unclasp her brassiere. Abby continued to kick and scream, until finally Logan managed to free the undergarment and rip it off, exposing her breasts completely. Even this wasn't enough for him, though, as he then deftly removed her panties and hose by rolling them off between his thumb and forefinger.
His task complete, he turned Abigail over again in his hand and beheld her in all her glory. "You see?" he said to her, licking his lips as he studied her tiny, svelte figure. "You can't resist. Next time I tell you to do something, you'd better do it, understand? Well, do you understand?" He raised his voice once more. "Don't make me ask again!"
"Y-yeah," sputtered his little prisoner, tears running down her cheeks. "Yeah, I understand, damn you!"
"Good," said Logan, turning his gaze to Brooke. "Now, why don't you take your clothes off, too, so I can get a good look at you as well?"
"Y-yes, sir," she stammered, and without hesitation started to strip off her skimpy outfit.
"There, you see, Abby?" Logan chuckled as he watched the little redhead remove her miniskirt. "That's the kind of thing I want to hear."